


I Wish I Had Something Bad to Say About You

by BubblegumCoffee



Series: Warfjack [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Apartment AU, Birds, I will mother my boys and all who wish can hop on our tiny paddle boat, M/M, cute birds, welcome to my rarepair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCoffee/pseuds/BubblegumCoffee
Summary: ‘Oh shit you’re hot.’ The words almost blurted involuntarily out of Jack’s mouth, but at least he had the common sense to keep them in.





	I Wish I Had Something Bad to Say About You

When Jack arrived back to his apartment complex, still smelling faintly of the craft beer he had spilled during work and the fries he’d slipped on, he felt a little undeserving of the note on his door. It was in some kind of old parchment paper, and every letter was in perfect cursive via some rich red fountain pen. But his glazed over eyes were too tired to make out the message, so he simply tore the paper off the clip it hung on and unlocked into his shabby little apartment. The paper was long forgotten on his shoebox bench as he barely mustered up the strength to make dinner, and then to crawl into his bed. 

The morning was slightly easier, after about two and a half cups of black coffee and the promise of his work snowing out. 

“Wilford Warfstache. Hm.” Jack found himself speaking aloud. Sometimes it helped with the deafening silence. He’d definitely heard the name before; he was a constant on the apartment roster. They’d just always managed to never meet, despite being across from each other every day for a couple months now. Wilford sounded like an old man from the way neighbors described him, very settled in his way of doing things yet fun to hang around all the same.

The message was rather to the point, however cordial it looked. Mr. Warfstache had concocted the flu and was unable to look after his pet, and he needed someone to come over for however long his sickness lasted to feed it, give it attention, and - to quote - ‘scrape defecation’. Okay. The last one made him giggle. This sounded like a cute little old man, he’d help him out. Plus, well, there was the whole payment side of things too. 

But yuck. That involved getting dressed. And taking a shower? Yeah, definitely taking a shower. 

Jack ended up doing all of the above, but opted out on hair gel in favor of a beanie. And as he tried to fold the neat paper into his pocket with one hand while fiddling with his keys in the other, it dawned upon him that on top of never having met Mr. Warfstache, he hadn’t the slightest idea what his pet was either. But he was already crossing the hallway, and well, shit, he’d already knocked. So he’d put on his fake waiter smile as best as he could. The door handle began to move.

“Hello Misterrr...what…” Jack’s jaw dropped, it felt like to the floor. He could only stare with probably the most bugged out eyes this man had ever seen. 

‘Oh shit you’re hot.’ The words almost blurted involuntarily out of Jack’s mouth, but at least he had the common sense to hold them in. Even with his nose running this guy was definitely the kind who stood out in a room, all warm brown eyes and strong jaw and build that was way more muscular than Jack could hope to be. 

The pink hair also helped with the uniqueness...was that a mustache? Was his mustache fucking pink? 

So instead what Jack blurted out was, well, “You’re not an old man.” He was glad it invoked a chuckle, even if it ended in a sour cough. 

“No, no I am not. People seem to get that...impression.” He had the strangest way of speaking, his jaw doing a lot more movement than it needed to. Just another thing that made Jack unable to look away, it seems. “Anyway, have you come to look after Bubbles?” 

“Bubbles?” Jack blanched. No sooner had the two started to step inside had a shrill screech shot through the house. He whipped around for the source of the noise to finally notice a grey and pink bird hanging upside down from a cupboard handle. It seemed to notice Wilford looking at it and flew over onto his upper back, crawling around the blanket wrapped around the man however it pleased. 

“Good boy!” Wilford grinned hugely, nuzzling the back of the bird’s head with one finger. 

“Now,” the pink-haired man changed his attention to Jack. “Have you ever had a bird before? This one’s a big boy, I dunno if you’ll be able to handle him.” Jaysus, why did that have to sound overtly sexual? But then Wilford was sneezing, and Bubbles made a mock sneezing chirp, and Jack started laughing. 

“No sir, but it’ll only be for a couple days so I’m confident I can help out.” The Irishman sad after gathering himself together. The other poured a bit, his mustache squishing up for a second before he turned to his counter and pulled out a notepad.

“Alright, I’ll leave you some instructions.” Bubbles screamed again. “Yeah yeah, ya scamp, Mr. McLoughlin will feed you in a second.” 

Jack let out a surprised nose as he felt a weight land on his back, more specifically a pair of feet trying to balance with very sharp toenails. He craned his neck just enough to make out Bubbles’ head, his pink and grey feathers all fluffed up in what kind of looked like a Mohawk at the top. 

“Careful,” Wilford spoke, not even looking at the two. “That beak can break your bones.” 

Jack was staring at Bubbles like a hawk with this newfound information, not even trying to move. “So, uhm...what kind of bird is he?”

“Oh, he’s a Rose-Breasted Cockatoo. Only reason I have ‘im is because some breeder overdid their babymaking and marked down the pricing. And also Bubbles had bit his finger off.” 

Jack gulped. He tried not to even tense up his muscles as the giant bird made its way to his left shoulder and screamed again. 

“Okay!” Wilford dropped his pen. “I’m done, let’s get to making some chop and then...I’m going back to bed.” 

Jack was hunched down a bit, so he didn’t see Wilford walking toward him until a hand reached out. He hesitantly shook it, looking away from Bubbles for the first time in the last five minutes. 

“The name’s Wilford, pleased to meet you finally. Though you already know that. Your first name?”

“Seán - well, uh, Jack. The nickname is Jack.” He shook Wilford’s hand, the other’s grip tight. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

Bubbles lightly pecked his ear before moving back to its owner, causing the waiter to flinch furiously.

Wilford started by pulling out a plethora of fruits and veggies and grains from his fridge, the other enamored by the quality of the food. The younger man was called over in a matter of minutes, because the pink-haired man seemed to be afraid he’d snot all over the food with his sneezes.

“Okay, ew.” Jack had giggled. But he grabbed the grater and finished up the red beets, then went on to the carrots, and the kale, then the cooked grains. Wilford curled up in a ball on the couch with his bird sitting beside him. He’d pressed a finger around the its breast, gently but not letting Bubbles fly over for a premature meal.

“You’re cutting all the food, uh, well right?” He pestered Jack again. The man in question was brazening the knife against the last of the cucumber. 

“Yep!” He’d sliced it all pretty well, he thought. This food was making him hungry, way more than greasy takeout.

Wilford made to stand up, but burst out into a red-nosed coughing fit. Jack stood a little awkwardly, feeling a little bad but unsure how to help. The guy had hunched himself over, flopping back down on the couch. Bubbles squished himself right down to where his legs were tucked in. 

“Bubbles,” Wilford grumbled. “Go.” And he crawled out, finding a home on Jack’s bicep this time, eyes wide. Jack felt a bit like a pirate, having to hold his arm out. 

“Go put him in his room, get his food, play with him for about an hour, then you’re done.” 

“Play with him?” Jack grunted, picking up the closed food bowl. Bubbles climbed him like a jungle gym trying to get closer to it.

“There’s a bunch of little toys around the room,” Wilford waved his hands. “Just let him tug on them or spin stuff.”

Jack nodded, determined to please, and made his way to the door he’d been pointed to. His jaw dropped when he saw the size of a cage which easily took up the entire side of this small room, a torn up study chair and desk inhabiting the other end. He tried not to tense when he felt Bubbles fluff up his feathers, then dig his toenails in a little harshly before springing off to fly himself into the enclosure. He perched right next to a small clearing on one of the level’s floors.

“Oh,” Jack realized. He stopped clenching the bowl of food tightly to his chest and removed its lid, slowly placing it down on the food. He smiled slightly, fawning as the cockatoo started to eat...

...and then promptly began throwing the food out of the cage. Jack guffawed, almost ready to snap at the bird before some chopped beat landed on his cheek. Bubbles started to flap, tugging at the bowl and ready to bring it over the edge.

“No, fuck’s sake!” The human shouted, grabbing it in the nick of time. He sped out of the room only to run into a heaving chest and almost get his arm tangled in pink suspenders. 

“You didn’t chop it well enough.” A gruff voice spoke above him, right into his hair. He could feel the warmth there.

“Oh.” Jack squeaked. Bubbles mocked him with a squeak.

“How about you just stay the night. I’ll have to teach you how to do this right, and it seems it’ll take a while.” Wilford suggested. “ - plus I could use some help with breakfast. I’ll pay ya.”

“Oh.” The smaller finally leaned back, putting his hands to his face in a mixture of embarrassment and being flustered. But he’d stay, he supposed. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. There’d be snow in the morning.


End file.
